The Missing Stotch
by Thrawny
Summary: Leopold “Butters” Stotch is the boy who can never get ahead. His overbearing parents and abusive friends never take him seriously. What happens when Butters leaves forever. What will his new life be like? Will his friends ever realize their mistake?
1. Chapter 1: TGIF

Sunlight peaked though the window blinds like a slick serpent. Its bright beam attempted to illuminate the room, unable to reach its unseen target. There was a soft knock on the door and a female voice called from behind it,

"Butters sweetie, time to get up for school."

The boy that was hidden beneath the blankets stirred to life. His short, bright, golden hair was in complete upheaval. Butters rubbed his eyes viscously as he tried to subdue the grogginess in his mind. He set his feet down upon the cozy bedroom carpet and consulted the clock on his nightstand. With it only being five past seven; he would have plenty of time to get ready for school.

Butters made his way to the nearby bathroom, dodging the obstacle coarse of misplaced toys and clothes scattered throughout the bedroom. This morning's routine consisted of practicing his latest lyrics about oral hygiene while using his Wellington bear toothbrush. When the last remnants of toothpaste were rinsed from his mouth, he jumped into the shower singing all the louder. He always prefers to shower in the evenings but it seemed that hot water and shampoo were the only weapons he had to tame his wild hair this morning. Feeling refreshed and fully awake, Butters returned to his room. A dig in his messy chest of drawers and dressed himself in a fresh blue flannel shirt and green jeans. When his black sneakers were tied on, he headed downstairs.

The aroma of fresh coffee and maple syrup welcomed Butters to the kitchen. Linda Stotch was busy at work at the stove; she had a spatula in her hand as she softly hummed to herself. Chris Stotch was seated quietly at the kitchen table; his eyes were carefully examining the business section of the South Park Gazette. Linda was the first to notice her son enter the room. Butters walked over to his mother and hugged her.

"Good morning baby." She said gleefully as she returned the hug with a gentle kiss to her son's forehead.

Butters proceeded to join his father at the kitchen table. Sitting in his usual spot, Butters grabbed the Comics page from the stack of newspapers, hoping to get a few laughs in before school.

"Did you read this hon?" Chris asked out loud.

"Hmm?"

"Wal-Mart's sales have been sluggish recently; it's mainly because of their outrageously long checkout lines. The manager says that someone has been blacking out all the barcodes on all the merchandise in the store. Nothing is scans at the register, so they have to type everything in by hand." My father said, finishing with a chuckle.

"Oh I know, I must have spent two hours waiting at the register yesterday." Linda responded. Her soft face reflected only a fraction of the frustration it displayed the previous day.

It took ever bit of self control for Butters to keep his internal, maniacal laughter contained to just a malicious smile. He and General Disarray had spent all Wednesday afternoon at that store with permanent markers, ensuring that that every barcode and printed item number was rendered unreadable. Finally, the town was beginning to feel the wrath of Professor Chaos. Linda arrived at the table to bring Butters a heap of pancakes drenched in hot syrup.

"Oh boy! Pancakes and hot cocoa! Thank mom!"

Butter began munch down his breakfast. His rapid pace of eating was hampered by his mother stroking her hand through his golden hair.

"You need a haircut sweetie." She said idly.

"Y-yeah, I know mom. I'll go after school." Butters replied with a mouth full of pancake.

"Don't talk with your mouth full Butters! That's very rude." Said his father in a familiar, annoyed tone.

"And make sure you clean up your room too. It's absolutely unacceptable young man, and I shouldn't have to point that out to you."

"Yes sir." Butters responded obediently. Chores were not very high on his list of desirable Friday afternoon activities, but it was better then being grounded.

After finishing his breakfast and placing his dirty plate in the dish washer, Butters hurried back up stairs to retrieve his backpack. Now that he was fully equipped for the day, he waved goodbye to his parents and stepped out the front door. The sun was now perched just above the summit of a distant mountain. The air was warm from its soft radiating beams. The summer heat had pretty much melted all of the snow in South Park, leaving only dew to cover the neighborhood lawns.

Tweek was already waiting at the bus stop. The jittery blonde was equipped with his usual mis-buttoned, olive colored shirt and quirky mannerisms. He was currently guzzling down his second can of red bull.

"Heya Tweek!" Butters greeted the boy in his usual chipper.

"Gah!" The other cried back as he tossed the empty can to the ground.

Eager to initiate conversation, Butters started,

"Boy it sure is great that it's Friday and all, we've got a whole weekend ahead of us. Doin' anything fun tomorrow Tweek?"

"Ah! Tomorrow?! I don't think I'll be alive tomorrow man! A scientist from NASA was on Art Bell's show last night. He said some huge ass wave of anti matter from the center of the galaxy, is on a crash coarse with the earth. We're all gonna fry man!"

Panic was only a vain attempt in describing Tweek's voice. Butters wasn't phased by this.

"M-My dad said that nothing on that show is true, he says he will ground me if I ever listen to it. But sometimes, when I can't sleep at night, I turn it on and listen to it with h-headphones, so that he would never know."

The school bus soon rolled up to the corner, and Tweek and Butters boarded it. The short ride to school was fairly uneventful, if you didn't count the latest argument between Stan and Token concerning their affection for Wendy. Butters now made his way through the crowded school hallways, taking extra care to steer clear of the groups of 6th graders along the lockers. Luckily for him, they were busy gawking at a centerfold from the latest edition of Penthouse Magazine and he managed to reach his locker without a single bruise or wedgie. He opened it to retrieve his set of books and notes for his morning classes. But, unfortunately, Eric Cartman noticed the boy's arrival and descended upon his favorite victim.

"Good morning Butters." He said in an overly innocent tone.

"Mornin' Eric!" Butters answered back brightly.

"You know why I'm here Butters." Cartman said in a dangerous tone, he was holding his hand out to Butters.

"Oh!" The blonde boy said in realization. He opened his backpack and handed the fat boy a folder. Eric opened it and began to examine the enclosed documents.

"Your handwriting is too God damn messy you black asshole! I might loose points because of it!" A rotten frown was spread across his plump face.

"Wuh-well Eric, your handwriting usually is messy. Mrs. Garrison at least won't suspect that I did your project for you." Butters offered, hoping to defuse the situation.

"She better not suspect anything Butters." Cartman responded, threatening the smaller boy with a dark glare.

Butters closed his locker and prepared to walk to class. But before he could walk away, he was slammed hard against the lockers. Butters never got the chance to respond to Cartman's violent actions. He was now pinned by Eric's iron hand, gasping for breath. He began to tremble as he looked into the dark amber eyes of the large boy in front of him.

"It seems that my mom forgot to give me my lunch money today. I will need you to, hmm what's the word? Ah, loan, yes loan me some." He said in very diplomatic tone.

"Um well, Eric I dunno. I-I kinda don't got any money." Butters answered back, without looking away from the Cartman's malevolent eyes.

"Butters, your terrible liar, so don't fucking try."

Cartman didn't see the need to coax Butters into giving him what he wanted. He simply slipped his hand into Butter's back pocket and grabbed the boy's wallet. The stress of separating Velcro echoed through the halls as he opened it and stuck his fat fingers inside. Butters simply stood there helplessly as he watched Cartman fished out a crisp twenty dollar bill. Suddenly his heart lurched, causing him to break his submissive silence.

"Oh no Eric! Please! My grandma gave me that!"

"Shut the fuck up! This is MIEN!" The other responded in his typical whiney voice while holding the money up at Butters' face. Eric then tossed Butters' nearly depleted wallet back at the poor boy's feet and strode off.

Luckily, Butters was able to withhold the tears that were beginning to water in his eyes.

"Crying is for the weak, and you're not weak."

He thought to himself. He bent over and retrieved his wallet from the dirty hallway floor.

"At least Eric is so short sighted that he didn't pay attention to all the one dollar bills I've still got in here. I'll still have enough for lunch." He muttered to himself as he evaluated the object. A second later the bell rang and Butters suddenly realized that he was all alone in the hallways.

"Oh hamburgers, not again!" He cried out as took off running to his classroom.

Ms. Garrison had already begun her lecture when Butters entered the room.

"Butters! You're late to my class again!"

"I-I'm sorry ma'am, I swear it won't happen again." Butters mewed as he took his seat near the front of the classroom.

"That's what you said last time numb nuts! See me after class."

"Yes ma'am" Butters somberly answered.

Ms. Garrison resumed her comical and biased lecture on the peaceful history of the Middle East. A few hours later, the bell rang and the fourth grade students of Ms. Garrison's class poured out the door to eat lunch. Butters stood out from the crowd as he approached the teacher's desk.

"You wanted to talk to me Ms. Garrison?" Butters asked, while nervously kneading his knuckles together.

"Sit down Butters." Garrison commanded while gesturing her hand at an empty chair next to her desk. Butter obeyed while staring up at his teacher, unable to foresee what would happen next.

"Butters it seems you have been having some serious problems lately."

"P-Problems? Like what?"

"Well for starters, have you seen what you got on your geography test last week?" The teacher asked.

She reached into a drawer in her desk and withdrew a stapled set of papers. And with a flop, one of the papers landed in front of her student. Butters was horrified to see a gnarly looking F minus scratched on top of the page. What was even more discomforting was that he could remember studying long and hard for that test. From the sunny state of California, to the distant Maine in the east, he had memorized the names of every state capital.

Butters examined the test closer and he couldn't believe that he would have written down that Austin is the capital of Montana. He continued to look down the page to find that he had answered every single question incorrectly, the blood drained from his cold face as he realized the grave situation that he was in. But then he noticed something very peculiar, on the top of the page was written his name, 'Leopald Scotch'. Butters could never remember a time that he wrote his real name on anything but government registration forms. The handwriting on the test was sloppy and yet oddly familiar. Slowly, a creepy sensation of realization was enveloping him as the scenes from a memory entered his train of thought.

It was an unusually warm summer day at South Park Elementary School. The fourth glade classroom was stifling hot, even with all the windows wide open. Butters' blonde hair was soaked in his own sweat. His face was concentrated on the paper in front of him, his hand whipping it occasionally to keep the streams of perspiration rolling down his temples from smudging the ink on the page. The rest of the class was locked in a similar struggle. Wendy was silently whispering to herself while moving her pencil across the test, checking the accuracy of all her answers for the third time. Stan's asthma was completely agitated by the ripe, heat filled air. He gasped in a fresh dose of medicine from his inhaler while examining his test with his light blue eyes. Eric Cartman, however, had his own eyes fixed solidly on Ms. Garrison. The teacher was oblivious to this since she was busy humming along to the lesbian folk music playing on her iPod while filing her nails smooth.

Butters finally dropped his pencil down to his desk, and began to get up from his desk. Cartman saw his moment of opportunity had arrived.

"Butters" Cartman whispered at the boy who was sitting next to him. Butters snapped a cautious glance at Cartman.

"Let me see your test for second, I just need to check one of my answers." Cartman asked quietly.

"N-No Eric, I-I…" Butters began, but the look of death on Cartman's face immediately made him reconsider. Cartman's eyes were narrowed into small slits, telepathically telling Butters of the doom that awaited him if he continued to resist. Resolved to escape this fate, the smaller boy discreetly passed his test to Eric. He then glanced up to notice that Garrison was daydreaming while starring blankly into the ceiling, her iPod volume so high that he could hear the music in his far corner of the room.

Cartman took far less time then Butters expected him to need in order to compare answers. When he was done, Butters snatched his paper back and turned it in to his teacher. Butters returned to his seat, only for Eric to shoot him a big, malicious smile that spread from ear to ear. This puzzled the other boy for a while, he didn't truly find out the meaning behind it until now. His mind flipped back into the present.

"Ms. Garrison ma'am, this ain't my test. Someone must've switched mine out with theirs." Butters said, being careful not to name Eric Cartman. The consequences of helping a cheater were far more severe then just an F on a test.

"What makes you think that sugar tits?" Garrison responded in a skeptical tone.

"Well uh, I never write my real name like that. It ain't even spelled right." Butters said, trying to convince his teacher.

"That's right; you lost even more points for misspelling your own god damn name."

Butters opened his mouth to object further, but his teacher cut him off,

"Enough! I will not be lied to by a nine year old little boy! There's no way that this isn't your test Butters. I've had these tests with me from the moment you turned them in. So I suggest you stop before you get yourself into even more trouble."

Ms. Garrison's student was shocked and unable to believe in what he was hearing.

"M-more trouble?"

"You've been late to class three times this week." She said. Butters once again tried to defend himself,

"B-but Eric Cartman…"

"This has nothing to do with Eric; I'm talking about YOU Butters! I don't tolerate tardiness to my class. And don't you dare try to make up an excuse for it." Her tone was noticeably angrier.

"You can't keep your smartass comments to yourself and you still make silly faces at me. I've had it Butters! I've already called your parents; we will all be having a conference on Monday to discuss your appalling behavior."

Butters' face was mortally terrified with his teacher's last sentence. He actually began to tremble.

"Y-you t-told my p-parents?" he stuttered out in a force whisper.

"I did Butters, it seems like it will be the best way for me to finally reach you. Now go eat lunch and don't be late coming back." Garrison finished with her finger pointing straight at the door.

Butters looked back up at his teacher, his icy blues eye were filled with unspoken sorrow.

"GET!!" she yelled impatiently, making the boy flinch.

Butters immediately hopped off the chair and ran down the hallway towards the school cafeteria. The lunch period was nearly over. With his appetite stipend and most his money in the fat clutches of Eric Cartman, Butters bought a carton of milk from the lunch line. Sipping on the soothing white liquid, he set out to find a place to sit. His usual spot next to Stan and Kyle was taken today by Jimmy Volmar. Butters looked over to find Craig's table completely filled with his usual posse. He finally found a seat next to the solitary Kevin Chang. The Chinese boy, who rarely spoke, was concentrating on his book. He gave Butters the annoyed look of someone who wanted to be left alone as the other took his seat. But Butters didn't care, so he remained planted in his seat. The conversation he had just had with Ms. Garrison was replaying itself in his head. What was he going to say to his parents? The bell soon rang and two hundred kids took off racing towards the playground for recess.

Recess filled Butters with hope; perhaps he could get his mind onto better things. He quietly lined up next to the other boys of his class as Stan and Craig each took turns selecting players for their football team. The group of students who were waiting to get picked got smaller and smaller until Butters discovered that he was standing all alone. Without a word, Stan and Craig turned to their respective teams and began to organize their players. He was surprised by this; usually Stan picked him right after Kyle.

"Hey Stan, why didn't you pick me?" Butters called out to Stan. The other boy turned around to him with an expression of annoyance. He sighed at Butters and said,

"Butters, you've been playing horribly dude. You fumbled the ball three times yesterday. I'm trying someone else today." Stan turned his back on the other boy and returned to his team.

With his hope of having a fun recess crushed, Butters walked over to the secluded section of the playground behind the monkey bars. He found a comfortable spot underneath a large oak tree and plopped himself down on it. After looking around to find himself all alone, he buried his face into his hands.

_Could this day get any worse?_

"Is that you Leopold?" A polite voice called out from behind him.

"Oh, h-hey Pip." Butters tried to greet the kid with false happiness.

"Why the long face Leopold?" Pip asked as he examined his friend's body language.

Butters shook his head; he never understood why Pip couldn't just call him Butters like everyone else.

"Oh, i-its nothing. I'm just tired." Butters lied. Pip was always fun to play with, but he wasn't good at listening to others.

"Very well then, I shall go see if Stanley will let me play American football with him."

Pip wandered off, leaving Butters there in his spot beneath the tree. The bell finally rang and Butters reluctantly returned to his class to weather out the remainder of the day.

Butters passed the remainder of the afternoon by taking note on Mrs. Garrison's lecture over the industrial revolution. The final bell of the day rang, releasing the students to their weekend festivities. With his mind numbed by the newly arrived freedom of the weekend, Butters skipped his way home. He immediately got to work on cleaning his room; perhaps if it was good enough, his parents wouldn't be very sore with him. The slam of the front door announced their arrival and the foolishness of that notion.

"BUTTERS!"

Butters trembled his way down the stairs to find both of his parents staring at him with an apprehensive look. His mother initiated the terrifying ordeal,

"Butters, your teacher called us today at work. I was shocked to hear what she said about you. You! My son!"

Butters rubbed his knuckles together, hoping that it would quickly pass.

"You got an F on a test?! And then you tried to lie about it?! And what did we say about making silly faces?" Linda shouted, stopping to catch her breath.

"I-I'm sorry mom" was all that Butters could say in the overwhelming disappointment of his parents. His father now took over,

"Sorry isn't going to do it this time buster, your mother and I now have to take time off from work to go talk to your teacher next Monday. You are grounded mister!"

Those last four words took a moment to sink in for Butters. The worst of his fears had been realized, and his weekend was now completely ruined. His chin lowered itself to his chest.

"Get upstairs to your room right now mister!" His father commanded in his voice that resembled a Marine Corps drill sergeant.

Butters retreated to the safety of his room and sat himself at his desk, which faced the only window in his room.

"Grounded again for something I didn't do."

Butters thought and couldn't help it but feel very depressed. He moved closer to gaze out his window. A utopian spring time Friday afternoon was playing out before his eyes. He could make out the figures of Stan, Kyle, Kenny and many of his other classmates playing soccer out on the fields near his house. On the street two homes down, Bebe and Wendy were jumping rope; their other girlfriends were watching them while giggling with each other. On the opposite end of the street, Richard Tweek was joined by Jimbo and Randy Marsh on lawn chairs. They too were laughing with each other while taking liberals sips from their cans of beer. Everyone was enjoying the magnificent weather and soft, majestic evening sunlight, all of them except for Butters.

Instead, Butters decided to keep himself occupied with his latest project. A huge model of the Sears Tower in Chicago was constructed out of thousands of blocks of plastic, multicolored Lego blocks in the corner of his room. As he examined the progress of his creation, he heaved out a sigh of frustration. The money that Eric had stolen from him earlier that day was going to be used to buy more blocks for the completion of the skyscraper. At least he still had the materials to make the buildings that surrounded the tower. Boutiques, delis and a Harbucks coffee shop soon surrounded the tower. Daring only to leave his room for the bathroom; he worked well into the night until he could barely keep his eyes open. A tired, hungry and disheartened Butter climbed into his bed and descended into deep sleep.


	2. Chapter 2: A Deal You Can't Refuse

Butters woke up the next morning feeling refreshed. Renewed optimism filled him with the hope that this day would turn out much better for him. Still wearing his pajamas, Butters entered the vacant kitchen. He found a note on the counter, written in his father's scratchy handwriting.

Butters,

Your mother and I have gone shopping in Denver for the day. You are not to leave the house, turn on the TV or touch the computer. Enclosed is a list of chores you are to complete before we get home this evening.

Love,

Mom and Dad

1. Clean your room

2. Vacuum the living room and dining room

3. Dust the shelves in the study

4. Wash the dishes

5. Mop the kitchen floor

Butters felt overwhelmed as he read the list. He was going to need to work quickly to complete all of these tasks on time. The young boy continued sing energetically as rolled the vacuum cleaner over a particularly stubborn stain on the living room floor until the door bell rang.

"Who could that be?" Butters wondered to himself out loud.

He opened the door to find Eric Cartman gleaming at him with his arms tucked smartly behind his back.

"Hello Butters." Eric greeted him.

"Oh, hey Eric," The other responded, glad that he was no longer lonely in his own home.

Cartman immediately stepped past Butters and entered the living room, tracking mud onto the freshly cleaned carpet.

"E-Eric, I don't really think you can come over and play. I'm grounded and I've got a mighty big list of chores that I've gotta get done." Butters said nervously. Was Eric going to get him into trouble again?

"I didn't come here for that." The other replied with a sneer. "I came here to get your help."

Cartman placed his hands together, as if he were offering someone a business proposal.

"Well uh, w-what can I help you with Eric?" Butters asked in a puzzled voice. He rubbed his knuckles together as he hopelessly attempted to decipher the other boy's motive.

Cartman turned his back and began to pace slowly; his eyes were solidly fixed on the living room carpet as he slowly thought of the right words to say.

"As you may know Butters, Roger Clemens has just joined the New York Yankees. His old Astros baseball cards have all been antiquated. They are now selling for an average of one hundred dollars on Ebay."

"Okay…" Butters acknowledged, unsure of what direction this conversation was going.

"Now pay attention Butters because it gets complicated here, we being in such a small town have not yet sold out all of the older packs of baseball cards that would contain an Astros Roger Clemens card. I calculate that Walmart has several cases of them still in stock. I need you to go in there for me and get all of the Roger Clemens cards."

"Well, can't you just go get them yourself?" Butters asked.

"No, that asshole manager banned me from the store yesterday. He says I've been running around the store blacking out all of the barcodes on the merchandise." Cartman vented aloud, a look of contempt spread across his fat face.

"But Eric, I c-cant help you. I'm grounded and can't leave the house. Besides Eric, that sounds an awful lot like stealing to me a-and stealing ain't right."

Eric Cartman stared back at Butters with a cold and calculating look.

"Selfish as usual Butters. You always think about yourself before anyone else. I should have known better. But if you think your parents are pissed off at you now, just wait and see how mad they'll be when I get off of the phone with them." He responded with a malevolent smile that spread from ear to ear.

"W-wait! What're you gonna tell them?" Butters reacted to Eric's threat with panic.

"Oh, just how they are such dickwads and that they should go fuck themselves." Cartman responded in an impressive imitation of Butters' voice. He walked over to the phone on a nearby table and picked up the receiver.

"No Eric! Please! Please don't do that!" Butters screamed as he raced over to Eric. His heart was filled with sheer horror as he fell down to his knees in front of Cartman.

"I-I'll do anything, anything! Just don't make my parents mad it me like that again!" Butters pleaded in desperation. His icy blue eyes were fixed on the other boy's face, distorted with tears of pure fear. Eric Cartman formed a demonic grin as he stared back at the blonde boy in front of him. He was happy to have this minion at his mercy once again, so he set the receiver back on its place.

"I knew you would come through Butters. Now let's go, it shouldn't take long. And if you're fast and lucky, your parents will never notice you left." The fat boy said in an assuring voice. Butters got up and whipped his eyes, as he tried to believe what Eric told him.

The two were now on the street, marching towards Wal-Mart. Cartman was busy instructing Butters in the art of shoplifting. The other boy listened carefully, trying to memorize every thing that his fat friend was telling him. They soon arrived in the busy parking lot of the South Park Wal-Mart.

"Now remember Butters, only take the cards with Roger Clemens. There should be one in every ten packs." Cartman said.

"Ah gee wiz, I've gotta open a lot of them then?!" Butters breathed out in realization of the daunting task before him.

"You're going to check every pack in the entire store dick face! Now get in there!" The other responded as he shoved Butters in the direction of the entrance.

"Welcome to Walmart!" croaked the voice of Marvin Marsh as Butters entered the fluorescent light bathed store. His heart was racing; as fresh adrenaline saturated his blood, making his head throb with anticipation. He had, of course, spent many hours in the store earlier this week committing his acts of terror and chaos, so navigating through the massive complex was easy for Butters. The closer he got to the trading cards section, the faster his pulse raged. Finally, Butters found himself standing in front of a huge shelf crammed full of trading cards. He found the wrapped packages that Eric described to him on the bottom shelf, carelessly ticked away from the casual shopper. Butters took a meticulous glance around the area to ensure that he was alone.

"I can't believe I'm actually doing this"

He thought as he tore the first wrapper open.

It didn't take long for him to search the entire case of cards for the ones Eric wanted. As Butters finished sifting through the final deck that he just unwrapped, he heard a loud "Ahem" behind him. The boy spun around to find a uniformed security guard staring at him. The man's eyebrows were furled apprehensively and his arms firmly crossed.

"Can I help you find something?" he asked the boy in front of him in an edgy voice. Butters was still too horrified to answer him. The guard instead reached down to examine one of the recently plundered packs of cards. This was all he needed to confirm his suspicions.

"Come with me" He coldly told his new prisoner.

Butters soon found himself in the dark security office of the store. A desk was positioned in the middle of the room with papers and empty coffee cups were spread across every square inch of it. The wall directly behind the desk was covered from floor to ceiling with video monitors. Each screen gave a hawk-like view of every individual aisle of the enormous store. The security guard sat down at the desk, leaving Butters to stand in front of him.

"Why were you opening all of those baseball cards?" the guard said to break the long silence. His eyes were fixed on Butters, searching for any hints of deceit.

Butters was completely unprepared for this. Eric told him how to avoid detection, but didn't tell him a thing about escaping from security guards. With his panicked little brain unable to think of a better response, he said,

"Well uh, I was looking for a c-certain b-baseball card."

"So you decided to ruin all that merchandise without paying for it?" The man countered as he got up from his chair.

"Take off your clothes, now!"

Butters obeyed and removed his shirt and pants, leaving them in a heap on the floor. The guard sifted through the pockets of his pants and his shirt, he frowned when he didn't find what he was looking for.

"All of them!" He commanded.

Butters, who had only his briefs on slid them down, his face turned bright red in humiliation as he did so. A pile of cards that were held by the elastic of his underwear fell to the floor. The guard picked them up off the floor and held them in front of the boy.

"Do you have an explanation for this?" he growled at Butters.

"N-n-no sir" he muttered in a barely audible voice.

The security guard returned to his desk and picked up the phone.

"Yes, Officer Barbrady? Yes it's Wes from Wall-Mart again. Yeah I'm doing alright. Hey, I've got another shoplifter for you. Yeah he's pretty young, tried to steal baseball cards. Alright, see you soon."

Wesley hung up the phone and looked up to Butters, who was still naked and shivering in the cold air conditioned room.

"Get dressed son, Officer Barbrady will be here soon."

Eric Cartman was waiting impatiently in the sun baked parking lot. He paced back in forth between the stationary cars in a hopeless attempt to subdue his anxiety.

"Where is he?" Cartman wondered out loud to himself. It shouldn't have taken him that long to grab the goods and come out. His nervous pondering was disrupted when he saw a police cruiser pull up in front of the store. Cartman stopped pacing to carefully watch two figures emerge from the entrance of the store.

"Oh shit dude." Cartman swore under his breath. The smaller figure turned out to be Butters, who was now being handcuffed by Barbrady. His friend was then ushered into the back seat of the cruiser. A few seconds later, the car left the parking lot, carrying Butters off to jail.

Angry at his friend's latest attempt to screw him over, Cartman stormed off in the direction of his home. His mind occupied with plans to get revenge on the boy who had just failed him.

Butters' ride in the police cruiser was short and mentally intense. The care stopped in front of a plain brown building that had several dozen other police cars parked around it. Officer Barbrady opened the back seat of the car to let Butters out. The boy struggled to keep his balance with both his hands bound by hard steel.

"Right this way kid." Barbrady called out as he led Butters into the police station.

The Park County police station was abuzz with activity. Butters glanced around to see police officers in cubicles, pouring over large files and talking into their cell phones. The two progressed through this large room into a much interrogation smaller room. Butters instantly recognized this room as being identical to the one he was brought into when he was accused of TPing the art teacher's house.

His previous experience consisted of being drugged and interrogated for many hours; he was then punished at home by his parents for confessing to a crime he never committed. These memories made butters more and more nervous as he was seated at a table. On the other end of the table was Sergeant Yates. The veteran police officer was currently talking to someone on his Bluetooth headset while taking large swigs from his cigarette. Officer Barbrady removed Butters' handcuffs and stood behind the boy, waiting for Yates to finish his phone call.

"Alright Jenkins, I'll talk to you later, after lunch." The sergeant said as he tapped a button on the headset. He then pulled out a folder full of empty forms along with a ballpoint pen from his shirt pocket.

"So, we've got ourselves a thief here. What's your name thief?"

"Butters Stotch sir" Butters replied back.

"Butters huh? Is that your real name son?"

"Wuh-well, n-no sir, m-my real first name is Leopold." Butters answered back, he was rubbing his fists together with intense discomfort. Yates was busy jotting down Butters' answers, he then asked,

"How old are you?"

"Well, let's see, nine and a half. M-My birthday is in September."

"And do you know your social security number?" Yates countered. The blank stare on Butters' terrified face gave him his answer.

"Your parents, what are they're names and what phone number can I use to contact them?" Yates demanded from Butters, who now looked back in renewed horror.

"C-Chris a-and Linda sir." The told Yates and then proceeded to give him his father's phone number. Yates dialed the number into his phone and began to talk into his headset again,

"Yes, is this Mr. Chris Stotch? Excellent, my name is Sergeant Yates and I'm with the Park County Police Department. Yes, well I am calling regards to your son. Yes, Butters. We just brought him in; he was just caught steeling cards from Wal-Mart. Yes sir, I can understand your surprise. Ok, we will hold him until you arrive." Sergeant Yates turned to Barbrady, who was quietly standing behind Butters with a dull look on his face and said,

"Put him in a cell till his parents get here."

Butters soon found himself inside of a room that was no larger then his parent's walk-in closet. The floor, walls and ceiling were all covered in blinding white paint. This featureless prison did little to hamper the panicked thought of Butters. He passed the short time by trying to come up with an explanation that would stand a chance against the rage of his own father. Unfortunately, he didn't get much time since the steel door that enclosed his cage, soon slid back open. Chris Stotch was standing at the door, staring demons and daggers at his son.

"Just sign here Mr. Stotch and you can take him home." Barbrady said in his lazy monotone voice. Chris signed the bail release form and pointed for Butters to follow him.

He grew more and more nervous with each silent second that passed in the backseat of the car. After what seemed an eternity to Butters, the care pulled into the driveway of his home.

"Get in the living room right now." His father commanded as he got out of the drivers seat. When all three of the Stotches were in the living room of the house, it began. Butters was shaking from head to toe, his hands were firmly locked together and his face was drained of even an ounce of blood. Chris continued to look at Butters with bold rage, while Linda looked down at her son with indescribable disappointment.

"So, you decided to take advantage of your Mother and I's absence to go and rob a store. It's bad enough that you're flunking tests, now you're a goddamned criminal!"

"B-but Dad, I-I…"

Butters was quickly knocked to ground by the shock of the blow he just received. His fathers' hand was shaking from the recoil of the attack. The boy was now sobbing uncontrollably while nursing his wounded chin.

"Don't you dare to ever talk back to me!" Chris shouted at the top of his lungs.

"I can't begin to tell you how disappointed I am Butters. You can never just behave yourself or do anything right. Your mother and I have spent nine years giving you everything but our lives to you. You are a failure Butters and I can't believe that your actually my son. Now go to your room and don't ever come out!"

Butters face was bright red and wet from his tears. He nodded in acknowledgement of his father's harsh words. Once he was on his feet, he ran upstairs and into his room. When the door was closed behind him, he dove into his bed while burying his face into his pillow. Butters cried and cried until the exhaustion of his own sorrow put him to sleep.

Linda Stotch was sitting on the sofa of her well decorated living room. Chris was pacing back and forth behind her, his hand on his chin as he thought deeply about what had just happened.

"Chris I don't know, that was harsh, way too harsh. You shouldn't have hit him." Linda finally said.

"Honey, how else will he learn?" Chris responded defensively.

"But you never even gave him a chance. Maybe he was innocent, or one of his friends made him do it. He's our son Chris, our only son. He should never loose trust in his own parents." Linda lamented sadly as the images of her child crying remained in her eyes.

Chris stopped pacing to stare at the large family photo that hung on the wall behind the couch. He remembered taking that photo with them; Butters had a huge grin from ear to ear, happy to be there with his parents.

"I need a drink." Chris announced.

"Don't stay out too long Chris." His wife called back to him as he grabbed his keys and walked out the front door.

Linda continued to sit all alone there in the living room, quietly thinking to herself. The emotions and memories of nine years of motherhood rolled through her head. The pain and joy of giving birth to her first and only son, and the praise she got from her father-in-law for naming him Leopold, the same name as his grandfather. She could recall a particular Christmas when Butters was five years old. He worked all day long helping her bake cookies and then tried to stay up to see Santa Claus visit him.

Linda now got up and entered the kitchen to fix herself a solitary dinner. The refrigerator was covered in many papers and pictures that were held in place by magnets. One picture stood out more then any other. It was a hand drawn picture that Butters gave to his mom for Mothers Day. The drawing had him snuggled into Linda's arms; they were both resting in a field of flowers.

"How good of an artist he is…"

She thought to herself as her interest for food dwindled. Bed sounded like a better idea, so Linda walked upstairs to her bedroom. The hallway was dark except for the light that was creeping out from beneath Butters' bedroom door. She suddenly felt the urge to set things straight with her son, so she opened his bedroom door. To Linda's disappointment, Butters was fast asleep in his bed. She noticed that he hadn't changed into his pajamas or even bothered to take his shoes off. Her son's face was half buried into his pillow, the other half was stained with his dried up tears. Linda moved to the bed and covered her son with his warm, quilted blanket. She then stroked his face once and whispered,

"Oh Butters, how can I let you be so unhappy. You are my baby boy and you have always made me so happy. Everything will be better tomorrow."

She then leaned down to kiss Butters on the cheek. He was still fast asleep when Linda turned off the bedroom light. She still looked at her peaceful child as she closed his bedroom door.


	3. Chapter 3: Nightmare Cinema

The room was suddenly filled with a blinding flash of lightning. A huge panoramic window that stretched from floor to ceiling showed a menacing thunderstorm swirling across the sky. It was followed by a loud crash of thunder made the floor rumble. Butters found himself sitting in an uncomfortable wooden chair planted in the center of the large room. His hands and feet were strapped in place by thick leather bands. He looked up to see seven shadows sitting behind a bench in front of him. It was currently impossible to make out their faces in the dim light. There was boy was standing directly behind him, his husky figure and mop of brown hair helped to identify him as Clyde. He stood at attention while maintaining an emotionless gaze at the people in front of him. The feel and smell of the room made Butters that he was in a courtroom.

"Do you know why you're here?" said a dark and familiar voice in front of Butters.

The shadow that was perched in the most elevated chair leaned forward, it was Eric Cartman. The menacing boy was once again staring down at his favorite victim.

"Let this special court come to order!" Eric announced, his voice was accompanied by another violent series of thunderbolts outside the window. The blinding flashes of light revealed the faces of the other members of the special tribunal. To Cartman's right sat Stan, Kyle and Kenny. To his left were his parents and Mrs. Garrison.

"Tribune Kenny McCormick will read the charges to the court."

Kenny stood up on his feet. He had replaced his orange parka with a set of flowing black robes. His shoulder length dirty blonde hair was neatly pulled back into a pony tail.

"Leopold Stotch, you are brought before this court to answer for the following crimes." said Kenny in his scratchy, un-muffled voice.

"Item number one: sabotaging the efforts of the citizens of South Park to make money and pursue happiness."

He took a moment to clear his voice and then he continued,

"Item number two: being a loser who has no friends or cool interests."

"Item number three: refusing to play World of Warcraft instead of Hello Kitty Island Adventure."

"Item number four: being a disgrace to his own family and talking back to his own father."

Kenny sat back down in his seat to indicate that he was finished. Butters' face reflected the shocked horror in his heart. How would he answer such charges?

"You have heard the charges Butters, how do you plead?" The voice of Cartman demanded.

"Nuh-not guilty." Butters hastily spat out. The traumatic situation was making it difficult for Butters to breath, much less speak.

"Then this panel of judges will now determine your guilt." Cartman responded, his face overtaken by a diabolic smile. Butters quickly started to plead,

"L-Look fellas, I c-can't possib…"

"The accused will not speak unless spoken to." Shouted the shadowy figure of Butters' father; his teeth were exposed in pure aggression.

"You have no right to defend yourself here Butters." Cartman added with a smirk. Butters closed his mouth as he realized the graveness of the situation.

"All in favor of finding the accused guilty as charged?" Cartman announced as he raised his fat arm into the air.

"Who would be friends with this weakass prick?" Kyle laughed as he raised his hand in favor of convicting Butters.

"You are no son of mine." Echoed Chris Stotch from the other end of the bench as his hand joined the other judges.

Butters looked around the room to find that all seven judges had raised their hands.

"This panel has found you guilty on all charges!" Cartman concluded as he continued to stare down at Butters, his eyes piercing into the essence of the other boy's soul. He then began the sentencing,

"Butters, you are the most pathetic form of life in existence. This court hereby orders that you be put to death immediately. Bailiff Clyde, take this piece of shit to the darkest place in the mountains and bury him alive. Place him in a tomb of rock so deep that we may never hear or see this creature ever again."

"Noooo!" Butters screamed in defiance. It couldn't end for him, not now, not this way.

Clyde approached Butters chair so that he may carry out Cartman's strict orders. The boy, trapped in the feeble chair was desperate to escape. So he did about the only thing that his panicked little mind told him to do. His violent movements made the chair flip over to its side and the sharp pain of landing on the floor shook Butters back to consciousness.

The boy now looked up to the ceiling of what he realized was his own bedroom.

"It was just a dream…"

He assured himself. His shoulder was still throbbing in pain since it took most of the impact from his tumble out of bed. But that wasn't the only thing troubling the boy, his stomach was screaming protest; depraved of any nourishment. Butters got up from the cold floor and moved across the room so that he may quietly open his bedroom door. The hallway was dark and deathly quiet. His parents were asleep and unable berate him any further, even for going to the bathroom. Butters tiptoed his way to toilet and relieved himself of what felt like every drop of water left in his body. When he was done, he snuck his way downstairs to the kitchen.

The smooth ceramic tiles of the kitchen floor were painfully cold to Butters' uncovered feet. But he didn't care. The bright blue LED lights on all the high tech appliances of the kitchen made it easy for Butters to navigate his way to the refrigerator. After rummaging through its contents for a few seconds, Butters found himself several slices of cold pizza and a bottle of milk. He tore into his late night dinner leaving only crumbs and an empty glass bottle untouched.

Butters returned to his room and sat at his bed. He wanted to go back to sleep, but the images of the nightmare consumed his innermost thoughts and feelings.

"How much of that was real and how much was fantasy"

He wondered in the front of his mind. The most haunting thing that bothered Butters was that every single person that he loved or cared about was in that nightmare. Did all of his friends and family really want him dead?

Stan, Kyle and Kenny all eagerly sentenced him to death.

"But those are my best buddies…aren't they?"

Butters quickly recognized how untrue that really was as his mind relived the recent events of the past. It always seemed that the other three boys were eager to ditch him in favor of anyone else. Actually, there seemed to very few times that Stan or Kyle willingly chose to hang out with him.

Then there was Eric Cartman. Butters used to think that he was his best friend, but he quickly learned better. Eric would only tolerate his presence when he needed Butters help. And Butters knew that his relationship with Cartman was saturated with abuse. He just got arrested for trying to steal stuff for Eric yesterday. Just a few weeks ago, he got sent to a gay camp because Cartman tried to molest him.

"If only I was strong enough to stand up to him…"

Butters wished. His were emotions overwhelmed by the malice of Eric pushing him around. This only got worse as his thoughts progressed to his parents. And on that subject, Butters could only sigh in unimaginable frustration. His father was never happy with anything that he did, no matter how hard Butters tried to impress him. Sure his mother was nicer and more sympathetic, but not when he really needed her protection from his abusive father. She always just went along with him.

"My parents are convinced that I am behind everything bad."

Butters was now trying hard to restrain the tears that his dark feelings were producing. How could the two people that he loved most in this world hate him with such a passion?

He got up from his bed to gaze into the large mirror near his door. A short and slim boy stood there. Two piercing shards of blue ice that were his eyes looked back at him. Oh how ashamed he felt of himself,

"Here is the dreg of society, a waste of life."

Everyone in this town viewed him as such and nothing he did seemed to change that. What could he do? Could he escape this miserable life?

This thought was followed by a wave of anger. He never contemplated leaving the home that he had spent his entire life in. But now everything that made this place seem like home was slipping away. He was living a hollow life of delusions. Butters knew he had to find a place where he would be appreciated, a place that he could find love.

He opened the bottom drawer of his desk and grabbed the small tin box hidden in it. Inside the box was a collection of Butters' most prized possessions. Several gold medals from his tap dancing career, a photo album, his grandfather's dog tags and a crisp $100 bill. There was also a DVD that contained the footage of Eric Cartman cross-dressing as Brittney Spears and a stack of letters held together by a rubber band. Butters grabbed those letters and sat in his desk chair. He opened the top envelope and re-read the letter within.

-------------

Dear Butters,

I hope that everything turned out ok for you. What kind of cruel friends would make you fake your own death and then make you dress up like a girl? Your parents must have been so worried. I will admit though that a cutie like you would make a great girl. Anyways, it's starting to get really cold up here. Daddy's been working a lot in the shop to get all of the cars in town ready for winter. I can't believe that Christmas is only a month away. Have you written to Santa yet? I better get back to writing my essay for English; please write back to me as soon as possible sweetie.

Love,

Carrie

-------------

The letter had a small photo stapled to the top of it. A girl with curly brown hair and sparkling blue eyes looked back at Butters. She was sitting in the middle of the autumn forest; the ground was completely covered in red leaves. Her kitten named Flowers was snuggled in her lap and she had a large grin presented for the camera. Butters put the letter back into the envelope and flipped through the other envelopes till he found the latest and last letter he received from his distant girlfriend.

-------------

Dear Butters,

I'm sorry that I haven't written to you for a few weeks. Please know that it is as difficult for me to write this as it will be for you to read it. But I am writing this letter to let you know that I am seeing someone else. He's a boy that goes to the same school as me. He's a lot of fun and is a total sweetheart; you two would probably get along really well. I'm really sorry Butters, but this long distance relationship just isn't working out. You're such a cute and sweet guy, but I never get to see you since I live in Michigan and you live in Colorado. These letters and the occasional phone call seem to be our only line of communication and I just need something more intimate. I still hope that we can be friends.

Love,

Carrie

-------------

Despite the fact that Butters had already read and analyzed every word of that letter, his heart still ached with its painful revelation. His girlfriend had dumped him, and he wouldn't be able to run away and live with her. Butters shoved the letter back into his treasure box and picked up $100 bill. The printed face of Benjamin Franklin on a piece of paper was all that represented his life's savings. He carefully folded the bill and slipped it into his front pocket. Then, he grabbed his school backpack that was near the door and emptied it. Books, notes and pencils all fell to the floor as Butters made room for other , more important items. He first stuffed in a change of clothing from his drawers, followed by the small tin box. He also retrieved his MP3 player from its charger on the desk and the cell phone that his parents gave to him for use in case of emergency. Going back down to the kitchen, he stole a loaf of bread, several candy bars and a bottle of coke. All of these were placed in his backpack. Once he felt prepared for his journey he sat back down at his desk.

"Where will I go?"

He pulled a map of the United States out from the top drawer of his desk. Denver was way too close to South Park for him to hide from his parents. His Aunt Nelly would probably find him if he went to Los Angeles. Butters now traced his finger over the east coast. New York was so far away from him; he had no idea how he would get there. Frustrated, Butters glanced to his side and his eye fell on is large model of the Sear tower.

"Chicago"

Butters placed his finger over the city on the map. He remembered visiting the city when his grandparents were there last thanksgiving. His heart rushed with excitement as he revisited his memories of the city. The skyscrapers towering around him and the streets were lined with wood paneled shops that sold everything from toys to chocolate candies. A resolute smile formed across Butters' face. His plan was set; all he had to do is act on it.

He grabbed a blank piece of paper and a pencil from the scattered debris on the floor and began to scribble his final note to his family.

-------------

Dear Mom and Dad,

I am sorry that I failed you both as your son. I suppose all I can do is leave you both alone.

Butters

-------------

The note was set on top of the blankets of his empty bed and Butters heaved his heavy backpack onto his shoulders. He took a final look around his bedroom and then opened the window. Climbing out the window and sneaking out of the house was nothing new to the boy. He landed on the ground with majestic ease and took in a deep breath of cool, nighttime summer air. The world outside of his house was dead. All the windows of the surrounding houses were dark; their inhabitants soundly asleep.

"Nobody around to stop me, not like they'd be able to," Butters whispered to himself with a wicked grin.

Butters traveled through the deserted streets and fields. The moon was towering high above his head, radiating a silver glow across the landscape that made it possible for him to progress to his destination. The young traveler remembered his father telling him that all trains passing through South Park were going to Chicago. Butters decided to trust in his father one last time and see if a train would get him out of this town forever.

The rumble of an idle locomotive vibrated through the massive cargo containers that were stacked around the rail yard. Butters made his way closer to the noise and sure enough, there was a train parked there. It was waiting for workers to finish unloading it and Butters could hear them laughing and swearing from just a few yards away. Butters worked quickly to find an unlocked boxcar to hide in. The one that he managed open was full of boxes that seemed to contain papers. He settled in to a place in the corner right as he heard a worker yell out at the top of his lungs,

"Ok Steve, we got the last of it unloaded. You're good to go!"

The engineer made Butters jump as he emitted several long blares from the train's horn. Then, the massive machine lurched forward. The boy moved back to the partially open boxcar door. The town of South Park passed him by, never to be seen again.


	4. Chapter 4: The Challenge

The screeching noise of an electronic alarm clock snapped Linda Stotch awake. She slapped a button on the clock to restore the silence in the room. Fighting her desperate urge to snooze, she lifted herself out of bed. Her husband Chris was still asleep, allowing the effects of all the beer he drank last night to wear off. It was a bright Sunday morning in South Park, and that meant church for the devoutly Catholic Stotch family. Linda walked the short distance from her bed to the bedroom door of Butters. His door was still shut. Normally she would just knock in order to allow her son the privacy of waking up on his own, but today was going to be different. She wanted to let him know that his mother still loves him. She opened the door and immediately noticed that the bedroom window was wide open. Something was wrong and she pulled the blankets of the bed back to discover them to be empty. A gust of fresh morning wind blew through the open window making a paper that was located at the end of the bed shift position. Linda reached over to pick it up. Her soft blue eyes darted back and forth as she deciphered Butters unkempt handwriting.

"Chris! Chris! Come quick!"

The mother cried aloud as she dropped the note and capped both of her hands over her watering eyes.

------------------

The hallways of South Park Elementary were crowded as usual. The mass of human bodies crowded into the corridors only made the stifling, jungle-like conditions more unbearable. It was late spring and another heat wave had descended on the unfrozen mountain town. Stan Marsh was now weaving through the crowds of miserable students. He has abandoned his jeans and jacket in favor of a green Terrance and Philip T-shirt and khaki shorts. He still had his poof ball hat stretched across his sweat drenched black hair, defying what others might consider common sense. Stan stopped in front of the figure of his best friend Kyle. The young Jewish boy was also dressed in summer attire, but his curly auburn hair was still covered by his green ushanka. His friend was hunched over and busy filling in the blanks of what appeared to be a homework assignment.

"Finish it yet?" Stan asked.

"Not yet dude. But we still have about five minutes until Mrs. Null's class." Kyle answered him hastily. It seemed that the majority of his brain power was devoted to completing his homework.

"If only he didn't always wait till the last friggin minute." Stan thought to himself as he sat beside his friend. But Kyle was at the top of his class and didn't need to give time or energy that Stan needed to give to his homework.

The bell soon ran and the two boys immediately set off for their computer class. The federal department of education had recently ruled that computer science must be taught to children in elementary school. If China was doing it, why shouldn't the US do it to compete with their biggest rival?

Kyle and Stan entered the computer lab and were greeted the mystical Mrs. Null. She was a petite lady with graying blonde hair and two soulless grey eyes. Here quirky demeanor gave Stan the impression that she had been locked up at some software firm, forced to sit in front of a computer monitor for ten year and had just been released to the outside world.

The hot temperatures of the hallways felt like paradise to the volcanic conditions of the computer labs. The exhaust pumped out by the fans of several dozen modern computers made it difficult for Stan and his classmates to breathe. Several of the students were starting to look dizzy as if they were in a trance. Mrs. Null began to speak,

"Ok children, today I will brief you all on your mid-term project. You will all be designing a small, rudimentary program to output your names to the screen, you'll all be working in small groups."

There were several gasps around the classroom as each student realized the task that lied before them.

"How the hell are we supposed to write a program?" Cartman blurted out.

"Its relatively easy Eric, you will have several weeks to get it done." The teacher calmly replied.

"Yea dude, it's not that hard." Kyle added, causing Cartman to respond with his usual sneer.

"I don't know what the hell your talking about Kyle, Jews can't write programs." 

"You think so fatass?" Kyle said. His face was getting noticeably red. He rose out of his desk walked towards Cartman.

"I know so Jew boy!"

"Fine Cartman, I bet you $20 that me and my team will do better then you." Kyle shouted as he poked his finger menacingly into Cartman's fat chest.

"You're on Kahl!" The other replied as he rubbed the palms of his hand together in excitement. Nothing was more invigorating for Eric Cartman then winning a bet.

"Sit down boys." Mrs. Null commanded her feuding students. The two obediently returned to their desks, and Mrs. Null continued with her lesson. Cartman ignored her as usual and instead looked feverously around the classroom for someone who couldn't find.

When the bell rang to dismiss the class, Eric made his way to the computer terminal that Butters usually used. It was empty and appeared to not have been used all day. The room that was previously filled with miserable students emptied quickly as they sought relief for their suffering. Cartman now approached his teacher's desk.

"Mrs. Null?"

"Yes Eric?"

"Have you seen Butters today?"

"His parents emailed me earlier. Apparently the poor boy is ill and won't be at school this week. Is there anything else you need Eric?" His teacher replied hastily. Her dull eyes were already fixed on her computer and she seemed eager to descend into the vast reaches of cyber space undisturbed.

"Ok, thank you ma'am" Cartman turned and left the computer lab.

When school was over, Eric Cartman walked his usual route down South Bonanza Street. But instead of heading to his own home, he walked few houses down to the Stotch residence. He knocked his tubby fist on the neatly finished wooden door and waited. Chris Stotch opened it and looked down at Eric in a twisted expression of fear and apprehension.

"Oh, hello there Eric. What can I do for you?" he asked. His words were as panicked as his thoughts.

"I've come to see Butters." Eric said in his well practiced tone of innocence.

"Oh well Eric, he's very sick today and is resting. I'll uh, I'll let him know you came by." Chris quickly replied as he slowly started to close the door.

"Mr. Stotch, please, I'm his best friend. I think that if he sees me, I might be able to cheer him up and help him get better. Surely you wouldn't stop him from seeing his best friend?"

If Eric was good at manipulation, he was gifted in feigning empathy for the many witless residents of South Park. Few people realized that the boy was incapable of such human emotions like empathy. Chris was very unprepared for this and then gave out his next best excuse,

"He's not exactly here Eric, we took him to the hospital last night."

"Why is he so determined to turn me away?"

Eric thought to himself as he felt the sensation that something was terribly wrong with his minion's father. Then he realized something, Butters wasn't in his room and wouldn't be able to protect it anymore. He knew what to do now,

"Well Mr. Stotch, I also came to get something back from Butters. He borrowed a movie from me. I need it back for school."

The lie worked and Eric Cartman was allowed unrestricted access to Butters' vacant bedroom. Thirty minutes of tireless searching turned up nothing, Eric's cross dressing video was nowhere to be found. The frustrated boy closed the door to Butters' completely destroyed room and started climbing down the stairs. He stopped dead in his tracks when he heard,

"Do you have anymore pictures of him Mrs. Stotch?" asked a deep and rough voice that originated from the kitchen.

"This is his school picture from last fall and here's a copy of the note he left. Do you have any idea where he could have run off to?" responded the soft voice of Linda Stotch.

"Just a few ideas ma'am. I'll keep you both informed on my progress." The man with the deep voice answered.

"Please hurry, its going to be difficult to keep this a secret." The voice of Butters' mother urged. The other man said nothing and Chris now spoke up,

"Thank you Mr. Brie. Please, let me show you out."

Eric finished descending the stairs in time to see a tall man in a sports blazer standing next to the front door with Chris. They both looked at the boy and Chris quickly asked him,

"Did you find it Eric?"

"No, but I don't think I will need it anymore." Eric said to deliver his next blatant lie. His eyes fixed themselves on the suspicious looking man who was standing next to Chris.

"Well you both have a good day now." He said as he opened the door for Mr. Brie and Eric to leave.

Cartman allowed Mr. Brie to walk out first. He watched the private investigator as he walked across the street and climbed into his silver BMW. All the while he thought to himself.

"My minion is gone, runaway, and the Stotches are hiding it. I'm going to need someone else to help me win my bet with Kyle."


	5. Chapter 5: Metropolis

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews guys. I actually planned to release this and the last chapter together as just one chapter. But I think this might be easier for you readers. Enjoy. If you like this story, you may also like my other story titled "The Fall of an Eagle".**

Two days of being locked up in a box car had pushed Butters to the brink. He was completely out of food, the car stank of his own urine and his mind was numb from boredom. And just like an answered prayer, the train screeched to a halt. Butters opened the heavy door of the boxcar to take a peak of the outside world.

Hazy smog, blaring horns and a towering skyline introduced the massive metropolis to all five senses of the young boy. His heart soared to a new zenith as he thought to himself,

"I made it, I'm finally free."

He grabbed his backpack, hopped off the train and took off running through the rail yard. This particular yard was far more complex and was packed with thousands of huge cargo containers. Butters slowed his jog down until he finally had to stop. It seemed that every alley he traveled down looked identical to the previous one and he could feel his brain spin in confusion as he felt hopelessly lost. The faint beep of a traveling forklift brought Butters out of his trance and he turned around to see the heavy vehicle approaching him. His instinct told him to find a place to hide, but it was too late. The driver had already spotted him and screeched the forklift to a halt when he had finally overtaken the frightened young boy.

"What the hell are you doing in here kid?" The man inquired. His voice was harsh to the ears; destroyed by many decades of cigarette smoke. He wore a bright orange hard hat and a stained white T-shirt the stretched over his massive pot-belly.

"Well um, hello sir, I uh was looking to get out of here. I came to look at the trains." Butters nervously replied. The man was gullible enough to believe him, and he motioned for Butters to jump in the forklift with him.

Butters' ride in the forklift was quiet and very uncomfortable. The driver weaved through the labyrinth of cargo containers at such a fast pace that it made Butters feel very dizzy. And right when the boy felt that he was going to vomit, the car stopped at the edge of the yard. A tall picket fence was all that separated the rail yard and Butters from the freedom of Chicago.

"T-thank you mister." Butters chipped at the driver as he climbed out and turned to walk towards the gate.

"Hey kid, you wanna come back home with me for a bit? This city is big for a boy like you." The man called back to Butters as he nervously looked around to make sure none of his co-workers were around to hear him.

Butters blinked his eyes in shock. Fat old men and unusual kindness made Butters remember a horrific organization he once got lured into, NAMBLA. As he rubbed his knuckles together, he said,

"N-no thank you sir."

"But…"

Butters never gave the man the chance to finish his deceptive offer; he took off running as fast as his short legs would carry him. It wasn't until Butters was four city blocks away from the rail yard before he stopped to catch his breath.

"Why do all those sick-os go for us blondes?" He bitterly vented to himself.

Butters wearily wandered his way deeper and deeper downtown. The streets of the windy city were alive with pedestrians and taxis. It was at the peak of rush hour and hundreds of men and women dressed in business suits were marching home from work. Some of them had steaming cups off coffee clutched in their hands, others were babbling incessantly into their cell phones. Yet all of them ignored the young boy who was wondering helplessly through the thick crowds. He had been to this city before, but he didn't have his parents there to help him navigate the congested streets.

Just when he was about to give up on figuring out where he was in the city, he looked up to see John Hancock building. Butters admired the size and magnificence of the monument of human engineering for several minutes until something else grabbed his attention. A pleasant aroma was filling the air that he filled his lungs, the young traveler turned around to find that he was standing next to the entrance of a Harbucks Coffee. He walked up to the window of the shop and peaked in. The place was jam packed with the denizens of Chicago. Was it his desire to relax or just his uncontrollable thirst for excitement? Butters never could figure it out as he entered the store. He queued up behind the other caffeine deprived customers who were waiting there turn in line.

Butters had always loved the smell of coffee, but had never actually tried it. His parents had forbidden him to ever touch it, causing Butters to usually settle for hot chocolate any time his dad took him to the Harbucks in South Park.

"I'm in control of my own life now, not my parents." Butters whispered to himself as he moved closer and closer to the cash register. A smile of self satisfaction was etched in his face as he resolutely decided to disobey his parents again. It was freedom, something that Butters was completely unfamiliar with.

The boy was now close enough to gaze at the large menu that was posted on the wall behind the register. It might as well have been written in a foreign language, because Butters had no idea what words like "Mocha", "Venti" and "Zen" actually meant. When he noticed that he was second in line, he began to feel very intimidated.

"Should he leave the line until I can figure out what all that stuff is?" He thought to himself with a degree of panic.

"Grande White Mocha!" blurted out the man in a brown jacket who was ahead of Butters. His tone and mannerisms were comparable to that of your average German Shepard.

The lady in the green apron who was working the register repeated the drink order and called it out to another man that was behind the counter. She then accepted the credit card that the customer was already hold in her face, swiped it and motioned for the man move on.

"What can I do for you, little cutie?" the lady behind the counter asked as she leaned over to get a full view of her young customer.

Butters, who was still too flustered with the environment around him, did the only thing that his panicked little brain could currently do.

"Uh, Grandy White Mocha" he said in an imitation of the man that ordered right before him.

The barista keyed his order into the register while she looked down it him suspiciously.

"Kind of young to be drinking coffee aren't you? Can I get your name for the order?" she asked.

"I-I drink it all the time ma'am and my name's Butters" the boy lied back to the lady while maintaining an untarnished face of innocence. The barista just smiled back at him and winked as she took Butters money.

"It'll be ready for you down at the end of the counter sweetie." She said when she handed Butters his change.

The theatrics, sweat and efficiency of the man who was mass producing the hand made beverages behind the counter was enough to mesmerize Butters. He stood on his toes as he watched the man craft his beverage with the perfect combination of chocolate, espresso and whipped cream. This particular barista had a certain charisma about him as he had a habit of announcing the drinks in the same tone of a radio announcer.

"Grande White Mocha for Butters is hot and ready at the bar." He announced, producing several chuckles from the other patrons standing nearby. The man looked a little surprised to see Butters reach up and grab the drink.

"Thank you sir!" the boy called back at the man behind the counter before he stop him from walking away.

Every table in the crowded café seemed to be filled with people. Their loud chatter was only dwarfed by the ambient noise of grinders and steaming milk. Butters made his way over to a cozy corner of the store that seemed to be less crowded. He then took the first sip of his drink.

"Mmmmm, so sweet." The boy thought to himself as his blue eyes scanned the area for a place to sit.

"Butters?"

The voice came from over his shoulder and Butters spun around to see another boy starring at him in disbelief. His skin was a gentle shade of brown and his curly black hair was neatly trimmed into a bowl. The boy was wearing a thick brown jacket that concealed the black tunic that he was wearing underneath.

"Bahir?" the blonde boy asked in equal surprise.

"It really is you. I thought that was your name that the barista called out. What are you doing here?" Bahir asked. They both found seats in the busy café as the old friends caught up on each others lives.


	6. Chapter 6: Walk a Mile In My Shoes

_A/N: Sorry about the delay guys. Finals and work have delayed my publishing if this chapter. The next one should be up sometime next week. Enjoy and please let me know what you think._

"Boom!"

The explosion echoed through the entire house, causing the walls and furniture to rattle in distress.

"Aww god damn it! They have the tank again!"

Kyle was the one who spoke; his face was twisted red in frustration. His sweaty fingers were working feverishly on the buttons of his controller as they guided player the player on the screen through the virtual world.

"Boys, keep that down!" commanded the voice of Sheila Broflovski from the kitchen. Kyle, Stan and Kenny were all too zoned in to hear her, the match being played out on the living room television was far too important. Kyle's head once again bounced in realization as he screams,

"Stan! Get your ass in the base right now! They're arming the bomb!"

The other boy narrowed his blue eyes further as he maneuvered his own digital killing machine into the team base.

"Come on, come on" He panted through his gritted teeth until he finally arrived in the main room of his teams bunker. But the boy was a moment too late and the ominous voice of the game announcer called out the chilling words,

"Bomb armed! Bomb planted! Game over!"

"Screw this game!"

Stan cried out as he threw his controller to the ground and crossed his arms in contempt.

"It's not my fault you guys suck, I got more kills then you two losers combined!" Kenny commented with his usual muffled voice. It seemed the world didn't have video game that the skinny blonde hadn't mastered yet.

"We need a fourth player, just grabbing some random guy off match making isn't working out for us. We get our asses kicked every time. Are you sure Cartman can't come over?" Kyle asked. Kenny looked back at him; surprised that his friend would actually want the anti-Semite in his own home.

"He said he had something important to do." Stan answered with a shrug.

"Probably trying to get a head start on that project. That fatass will do anything to try and win a bet." Kyle added.

"How about Butters?" Kenny offered.

The other two boys looked back at the hooded kid somewhat apprehensively, a look that he received anytime he mentioned the Stotch boy.

"What about him?" Stan asked.

"He was pretty good the last time I played with him and the fatass. He's an awesome sniper, better then me actually." Kenny said. Kyle looked somewhat convinced and reached into his pocket for his cell phone.

"I'll call him then," He said as he selected Butters' number from his contacts list.

The line on other end never rang since the cell phone was switched off. Kyle's call was immediately routed to Butters' voicemail.

"H-Hi there, this is Butters' cell phone. I can't pick up the phone right now so leave me a message a-and by golly I'll try to call you back." said the recorded message in Butters cheerful overtone.

Kyle scowled as he heard it and mumbled,

"Told him to change that lame ass message, he still hasn't done it…" before he cut off the call.

Kenny chuckled as Stan rolled his eyes. Kyle put his phone back in his pocket and got up from the couch.

"Let's just go over to his house, it's on this same street." He said as he slipped his shoes back on. The other two boys nodded in agreement and headed towards the front door.

The Stotch house was really only across the street from the Broflovskis. The three boys trotted through the overgrown lawn and approached the neatly carved door. Inside the house, a very different scene was taking place,

"I think that'll do it. What do you think Chris?"

Chris Stotch walked into the bathroom to see what his wife was working on all day. In the middle of the room, a thin boy wearing only his boxers was standing there. All around him were scattered clippings of hair, empty boxes of dye and a pair of scissors.

"Looks exactly like him my dear, we couldn't be any luckier." He said in satisfaction as he examined the boy.

"Look for yourself Mike." Linda said as she motioned him towards the mirror above the sink.

The boy named Michael stepped forward to look at his new image in the glass. He gasped at what he saw; his long and shaggy brown hair was gone. It was replaced by a short tuft of bright yellow hair that made his scalp feel naked. His thin black wire glasses were replaced in favor of contact lenses that made his sea blue eyes itch in irritation.

"How long do I have to stay like this?" The boy asked.

"As long as it takes for us to find the real Butters" Chris responded.

"And you're sure this stuff ain't permanent?" He asked as he ran his hands through his freshly bleached hair.

"It should fade out in a few weeks, but we'll have to recolor it as long as we keep you here to play the role of Butters."

Michael sighed to himself, if it wasn't for the money that his dad was getting for this, he wouldn't do it. Maybe this job would finally give dad and him the boost they get a good home and a normal life. Hid dad still worked full time for Motivation Corp and he never got to see him because it would ruin the role he would be playing at the time. Despite this, Michael felt like a natural born actor and he traveled around the state impersonating nine year old boys who had gone missing.

"Now, you're sure you don't have any other questions about our son? Nobody and I mean nobody can find out about his disappearance." Linda's voice was edged with fear. She handed the boy a fresh pair of green jeans and a blue button up shirt as she waited to answer any of the boy's questions.

"A gee wiz mom, I-I think I'll be alright." Michael said in an accent that was identical to Butters. Chris and Linda both looked at each other and smiled, their plan was going to work.

"Very good Butt…I mean Michael." Chris said as Michael finished buttoning up his borrowed shirt. The sound of the doorbell ringing caused both of the Stotches to jump.

"Stay here." Chris ordered as he left the room with Linda. The two opened the door to see Stan, Kyle and Kenny waiting at their doorstep. The boys seemed a bit surprised, since it was usually Butters who answered the door.

"Hello Mr. and Mrs. Stotch, is Butters home?" asked Kyle.

"No, Oh I mean yes, yes he is." Linda stuttered nervously through her thin lips.

"Is he grounded or something? Is it ok for us to talk to him?" Kyle continued, expecting to be turned down.

"Oh, yes of coarse you can talk to him, come on in boys."

The boys all followed Linda into the living room. Chris went to the stairs and said,

"I'll go get him for you guys," and walked up the steps leaving Linda alone with the visitors.

Linda was as nervous as ever, she clamped her hands together and tried to start small talk.

"So, how is your day going boys?"

The substitute Butters was buttoning up his shirt when his acting father busted through the door.

"Butters, your friends are downstairs, your sure you ready?"

"I sure am dad!" responded the actor in Butters' voice. Chris smiled back smugly as he motioned for Butters to go visit his friends.

The new Butters moved quickly downstairs and carefully observed the other boys in the room.

"The kid with the poof ball hat is Stan, the Jew is Kenny….no wait, its Kyle and that other kid in the orange jacket is Kenny."

He thought, his mind flashing back to the class pictures he studied before he took this job. The only thing he felt uncomfortable with is the actual role he was going to play. After watching many home videos given to him by the Stotches, Michael had come to the conclusion that Butters was the unofficial whipping boy of the town. He read the news paper clippings about him almost getting murdered by his own mother, head about him faking his death and being chained in the basement for two weeks. This kid had a tough life that he finally had to escape. But Michael felt this was only the surface of what his role had suffered.

"Heya fellas!" He called out as soon as he had fully entered the room. The boys turned around as they had expected Butters to greet them in this manner. Linda slipped Michael a sly grin. She was certain that the town would accept the imposter hook, line and sinker. Stan was the first one to speak up,

"Hey Butters, dude, you should come over to Kyle's house with us. We need another player for Halo and Kenny says you're a badass."

"What the hell is Halo?" Michael wondered to himself as he considered his options. He could easily be exposed if he went with the boys to play this game, or he could go against his role's very nature and reject this rare invitation to hangout with his semi friends. Painful moments slowly passed as Michael tried to decide.

"Well, are you coming?" Kyle pressed the actor.

"Oh, um, yeah sure, I-I'll come." Michael blurted out. He gritted his teeth as he began to realize he would regret this.

"Sweet lets go dude." Kyle said as he and the other boys turned to leave. Michael walked with them to the door.

"Be sure to be home for dinner by 6 pm, ok sweetie?" Linda called to her fake son right as was going to close the door.

"O-Ok Mom!" Michael answered before he shut the front door behind him. He then glanced at his watch and recognized that there was light at the end of the tunnel. It was two hours till he had to be home for dinner. Maybe he could fake his way through this long enough. He walked faster so that he could catch-up with Stan and Kyle, who were idly chatting with each other.

When Kyle noticed that the blonde boy had caught up with him, he asked,

"So, where've you been dude? I haven't seen you in class all week. We fired Pip from our foot ball team and Craig's been kicking our ass without you."

"Oh well, you know, I-I have been sick. Er, the flue." Michael quickly lied. Stan now turned to look at the boy that was walking between him and Kyle and commented,

"No shit dude, you look like you've lost at least ten pounds. You're almost as skinny as Kenny."

"Did your parents ground you and not feed you again Butters? You promised that you'd tell me if they were hurting you." Kyle quickly interjected. He was giving Michael a very concerned look.

"I'm just fine fellas, don't worry 'bout me." Michael said calmly.

"Dude, I saw the look on your dad's face when we came to get you. You don't have to lie to us to cover up for them Butters." Kyle pursued.

"Everything's alright you guys; just leave me alone, I was s-sick with the flue!" Michael responded. His tone clearly indicated that he wanted to end this conversation. The gasps and piercing looks he got from the other three boys made the imposter quickly regret this.

"Oh shit, oh shit, what the hell am I going to do? It hasn't even been five minutes and I did something completely out of character."

He thought as he mentally kicked himself over and over again. Luckily, the other boys arrived at the Broflovski house, allowing the awkward conversation to end. They all sat down on the couch and Michael was handed an Xbox game controller. Kyle continued to glare at Butters, something just wasn't right with his blonde friend and he was going to find out what it was.

"So you've left South Park for good?"

"Yup, and I ain't ever going back there."

The figure of Butters stood out from the dark green upholstery that stretched across the large arm chair he was sitting in. His eyes slid over to look at his old friend Bahir who was sitting in the chair right next to him. The other boy smiled back at Butters and leaned closer as if he was about to whisper him a secret,

"Well Butters, so have I."

Butters snorted up some of his coffee as he realized what he'd just heard. Bahir moved even closer, he really didn't want to be overheard by the other occupants of the crowded Harbucks Café.

"When my parents were released from that prison in South Park, all because that fat boy said they were terrorists, they told me they were leaving this country. They later decided to move back to Syria."

Bahir licked his lips and took a deep breath as he continued his story,

"I begged them not to Butters; I begged, cried and shouted like I have never done in my life. But nothing would sway there decision to leave this place, my home. They said I was still just a boy would understand why living in a Muslim country would be better for me. So, the night before I was to board a plane to leave my home forever, I snuck out of my family's town home here in Chicago."

"S-So where have you been living this entire time?" This question was important to Butters. He had planned his escape from South Park, but hadn't quiet though of what he would do once he got to the big city. Freedom was both scary and powerful for those who were unfamiliar with it.

Bahir leaned back in his chair for a second and took another sip of coffee from his cup. Butters winced when he noticed an eerie smile etch itself across the darker boys face. The other boy motioned for Butters to move closer to him, and he then spoke in darker tone,

"Its amazing Butters, I am finally part of something big. It's the force of good that I have been searching so long for."

The blonde boy looked slightly puzzled as he tried to figure out what the other boy meant by that.

"You and me have a lot in common, you know. We both had parents that don't care about us and friends that didn't respect us. We were both strong and brave enough to run away from it and escape it. Soon after I left my home, I met a boy. He was aware of the cruelty of society and how the "cool" kids choose people like us as their punching bags. He has plans to change that Butters, he wants to make sure that people like us are on top and our kind will never suffer again. They will learn how wrong they were about us."

Butters found himself staring at the lid of his now empty paper cup. He was trying to come up with a good response to what Bahir was saying. The anger and frustration of being the boy who was chosen by society to suffer was nothing new, and he had done a good job of hiding this feeling to the outside world. He blinked his blue eyes and moved them to look intently at Bahir. The other boy knew immediately that his words had all hit Butters in the right places. The fair skinned boy now whispered back to Bahir,

"I've always felt t-that Bahir, but then I convinced myself that it ain't true. A-And the few times that my anger about all those other assholes got so strong, I assumed my secret super villain identity to get revenge on the society that shunned me. I f-failed in ever one of my plots though."

Butters last few words got slow and more sorrowful. His soft eyes returned to staring at the lid of his cup.

"Our plans are more then mere mischief Butters. We have a true purpose and a just cause behind our movement. We will succeed Butters and your help will make that happen sooner."

The Stotch boy twiddled his thumbs a little and then looked up to ask,

"Y-you fellas would let me live with you?"

"I believe so. Come you should meet our leader." Bahir replied as he pulled a cell phone from under his cloak and dialed in what seemed to be a text message.

"Follow me my friend." He commanded as he got up from his chair.

Butters' head was now buzzing with mania; the caffeine high was making his hands jitter and the temples on the side his head throb. He followed Bahir closely as they weaved through the crowded, busy sidewalk. The sun was descending from the sky, casting an orange haze that reflected off of the glossy sides of the abundant skyscrapers. They were several blocks from the Harbucks coffee shop when Bahir made a gesture to Butters that indicated they were turning off of the sidewalk.

The alley they just turned into was dark and very narrow. Butters looked around nervously as they walked further down the path and the sunlight continued to decrease.

"Is this where you guys live?" Butters asked.

"No, nobody but out members are allowed to know were our secret headquarters is. This is one of our many private meet up spots. My lord is waiting for us here. "

Bahir answered as he stopped next a stack of boxes and looked around for something.

"Your lord?"

Butters' question was never answered; there was a sudden twirl in the air behind him. The boy turned to find a shadowy figure covered from head to toe in black. The creature inside the black draping lifted his ghostly white hands to his face and pulled back the hood that concealed his head and face. And from within the shadowy depths of the cloak, the head of a boy that was aged at about ten years came into full view. His skin was shallow shade of grey that stretched across his face. High cheek bones and deep set beetle black eyes made Butters think that some undead skeleton was standing before him. A gnarly mane of carrot red hair made his head appear as if it was on fire. The boy stared back at the two boys in front of him; he then formed his colorless lips into a smile.

Butters felt as uneasy as ever. He couldn't help but remember what that Eric Cartman had told him about day walkers. He broke his dazed stare at the shadow in front of him to notice that Bahir was kneeling right next to him.

"Lord Rache, this is the boy I spoke of. His name is Leopold Stotch, but prefers to go by Butters." Bahir said as he lowered his head in obedience.

"Well done Sa'arin. Go now and secure the entrance to the alley. Ensure that our meeting is not disturbed."

The voice of Lord Rache was unusually deep for a boy his age. Its powerful notes seemed to make the very heartstrings of Butters vibrate. The blonde watched his friend quickly rise to his feet and take off to guard the alley as he was ordered. He left all alone in the presence of this vampiric shadow that was stepping closer and closer to him.

"Its good to make your acquaintance Butters." He began. Rache didn't accept Butters' outstretched hand and instead kept his arm tucked behind his back.

"As you may have realized, I am Lord Rache. I'm the leader and founder of The Brothers of Eternity. Sa'arin tells me that you have left your old home in Colorado to start a new life."

Butters mind was unable to produce any meaningful words to respond to the other boy. Instead, he answered the inquiry with a short nod.

"A life free from the oppression of the cool kids?" Rache added. Butters gave another nod.

"Tell me something Butters. If you could have anything in the world, anything at all, what would it be?"

This surprisingly personal question caught Butters completely off guard. Dozens of thoughts that contained the boy's deepest and most desperate desires flashed through his mind. What would it be? What would a young nine year old boy want above all else? Was it money, wisdom, power or love? Perhaps it was,

"A home." Butters whispered in a chilly voice. The essence of his soul seemed the lurch with the very phrase. His eyes fixed themselves on the ground and never saw the smile that crept onto Lord Rache's face. The blonde went on to elaborate,

"I want a place where I have friends that really love and respect me. Somewhere I belong."

Butters spirit was surging with the new sensation of revealing his deepest emotions. There was something oddly satisfying about revealing a secret the he had kept for so long.

"I can give you that Butters." Rache responded.

Butters snapped his head up to look into the hallow face of the boy who just uttered the words he wanted to hear. Lord Rache now walked forward to Butters to place his hands on the other boy's shoulders. Lord Rache's night black eyes met Butter's icy blue ones for the first time, telepathically sharing torment that they had both faced over the years.

"All your life you have struggled to become true and whole. The cool kids have denied you true life because they perceived you to be weak and undeserving. They took pleasure in watching you suffer from neglect and social isolation. They used you all the time for personal gain and expected you to give everything, including your soul to them. It doesn't need to be that way. You are better then them Butters and together we can change the way society treats people like us. Friendship, power respect and..." Lord Rache's voice got increasingly low and deadly

"…vengeance shall all be yours in the brotherhood."

"Vengeance?" Butters asked.

"Vengeance on the society that has tortured us Butters. The Brotherhood is made of people like you who have decided to break away from the half life that those people forced upon us. We have united in the single cause of striking back."

Butters was speechless, his young brain strained from trying to take in everything it was hearing.

"Join me Butters, join me and finally become whole. I can give you power and glory beyond your wildest dreams. Join me and you will have finally found your home."

Lord Rache extended his skeletal hand out to Butters, who was now thinking quickly to himself,

"Is this all just a dream?"

The offer was too good to be true. Oh how he had dreamed of starting over again. How he cried himself to sleep at night wishing that he could change his status in society. His opportunity had finally come and without further hesitation, Butters joined his own hand to embrace his new master. Butters realized that he had finally sealed his fate with the one of power.

"Welcome to the circle Butters. Your first step is to complete your departure from the life that you never deserved. The name Butters was given to you by your oppressive friends and Leopold by the parents who never loved you. Choose a new name for yourself."

"Chaos" Butters answer as a shadowy smile stretched across his face.


	7. Chapter 7: The Brotherhood of Eternity

"All right Wendy, lets go!"

Michael shuddered has he heard the boy next to him call it out to the other room. Another dosage of humiliation was coming his way. He looked at the screen in front of him as the counter reduced itself to zero. His character was just a gun on the bottom corner of the screen and scrawny sights in the middle to indicate where his bullets would land. This level, whatever it was called, was a large and desolate looking canyon. He moved from side to side, still trying to get a feel for the controls.

"Come on dude, get in the warthog." Kyle whispered to the nervous imposter.

He noticed the other character in front of him, a large soldier clad from head to toe in red armor jumping up and down. Michael moved towards him and climbed into the rugged looking jeep that was parked behind Kyle.

"You drive." Stan commanded him as his character manned the rear mounted machine gun.

"O-Ok" Michael answered. The speaker system of the living room entertainment center rumbled as the jeep's engine roared to life. He moved his joystick back and forth, noticing how it effected the position of his jeep. Michael began to think to himself,

"If only I could just…"

"GO!" Stan and Kyle yelled in unison.

And off they went; down the canyon and through the grass covered dunes. Michael had no clue as to where he was supposed to drive; his only hope was that he would receive further instructions from Kyle or Stan. His controller vibrated as Stan opened fire from his massive machine gun on some unseen target.

"Left dude, LEFT!! I saw one of them skulking inside the caves." The other boy ordered. Michael sifted his thumbs on the controller in response and the warthog rammed its way towards the rusty colored sandstone cliffs that surrounded the canyon.

"Ain't we supposed to go grab the flag?" Michael asked to try and give the other boys the impression that he wasn't completely clueless.

"Shutup Butters and just drive" Stan snapped back as he continued to shower the rocks ahead with as endless volley of bullets. Michael felt his face get slightly red as he thought to himself,

"Did the real Butters actually let people talk to him like this?"

Kyle was now giving him instructions,

"Keep driving towards their base Butters. When you reach the door, I'll jump out and grab their flag. You'll make a circle around the base and pick me up back in front. Got it?"

"A-Alright then." Michael responded in a manner that he felt his predecessor would answer in.

"Were all his friends like this?"

Soon the jeep was on the other side of the canyon and Michael was driving circles around the blue painted base, waiting for Kyle to walk out the front door with the flag. Stan was still standing in the back, wasting his unlimited ammo on unsuspecting rocks and trees that were scattered around the building.

A roar followed by a sharp explosion made all of the players seated at the couch jump.

"Rockets dude! Bail bail!" Stan screamed as another rocket zoomed their way. Both players jumped out of the vehicle before it slammed into the warthog. An urgent sounding beep from the speakers informed Michael that his shields were down. And the attackers took notice of this as they opened fire upon the survivors of the car wreck.

"Get inside the base, we'll take the portal out of here." Stan commanded. The two soldiers retreated towards the front door of the enemy base. Two loud shots from a distant corner of the canyon silenced one of the blue attacked who were pressing towards Stan and Michael.

"Hah, got another one!" cried the muffled voice of Kenny. He prided himself in being the sneaky sharpshooter who could strike any player on the map with his high powered sniper rifle.

"Kill those bitches! I've got the flag! We're going to have to walk out on foot!" Kyle said just as the announcer called out over the loudspeakers,

"Flag taken!"

Michael watched the armored figure of Kyle run out the front door of the blue base right as he and Stan approached its safety. The shots from the nearby opponents stopped as they were finally out of sight.

"If we go through the caves on the right, we could avoid them for a little while." Stan advised, who was met with a nod of agreement from his Jewish friend.

Michael obediently followed his teammates, hoping that he wouldn't do anything else to screw this game up. They were soon traveling inside the caves that were elegantly carved into the sandstone cliffs of the canyon.

"There' two of them in front of us" Kyle announced in a low whisper. Michael looked up his radar and he could understand what the other boy was talking about. Two menacing red blips where lurking ahead, obviously hidden in the next room.

"Ok Butters, I'm going in first. We need to kill those bitches fast before they get to Kyle. If he dies, you MUST pick up the flag and run towards the base. Do you understand?" Stan looked at Michael, searching for any sign of acknowledgement. Michael blinked his eyes and gave a quick nod.

"Alright, lets go!"

Stan's armor clad Spartan soldier charged ahead into the room, releasing a hail of gunfire at the yet to be seen enemies inside. Michael walked into the room right as Stan's character fell to the ground. The killing blow was inflicted by just single shotgun blast. The blue Spartan that wielded the weapon immediately turned to Michael and fired another round and the boy. This did only minor damage since he wasn't quiet in range.

"I'm down" Stan announced in resignation

Michael pressed the right trigger button down on his controller as hard his small muscles would allow. But he might as well had been shooting spit balls because the armored soldier in front of him stood ever taller and charged towards him with a barrel full of buck shot.

"My shield is down Butters! Oh my God, hurry up and kill him!" Kyle cried out in panic. Michael could see him attempting run in the opposite direction, away from the attackers. Michael had no idea what to do. His heart and mind were racing at an unbearable speed. He finally did the only thing that his non existent combat instincts told him to do.

There were several metallic clinks echoing through the speakers. And as Kyle gave Michael a mixed facial expression of horror and rage, the loud explosion of Michael's own grenade killed the two remaining soldiers of the red team. Michael immediately felt his checks glow bright red, this was the third time he was responsible for the demise of his team and he knew that Stan and Kyle wouldn't be so forgiving. The imposter looked over anxiously as he prepared for the worst.

"Fuck this!" Stan began as he chunked his controller down at the carpeted floor. He then looked at Kyle, as if trying to confirm his thoughts with those of his friend's. But suddenly, the sensation that Michael had felt earlier when he had been accosted by his so-called friends erupted. Why was he to feel guilty for being terrible at a game he had never played? And why would his friends be so rude to him just because of a video game.

"Is that all you've got doughnut punchers?" asked the mocking voice of Heidi Turner in the other room. Her insult was joined by a chorus of giggles from the other girls.

Kyle finally opened his mouth to express the rage that he shared with Kenny and Stan. If there was anything that these three boys hated, it was being humiliated by the girls of the fourth grade class. But the young Jewish boy never got to say what he wanted to, Michael beat him to it.

"Well screw you guys; you're all a bunch of assholes anyways. How the heck do you expect someone who has never played this game to play to such high standards? I can't believe you would treat anyone like this."

Michael then tossed the controller down on the couch next to Kyle and ran out of the room, leaving Kyle, Stan and Kenny's jaws all hanging wide open.

* * *

The bristly sunrise brought forth another Monday morning to South Park elementary. The hallways were filled with the same young students chattering about everything from the game last night to Mrs. Garrison's new girlfriend. Their lazy attitudes were changed when the front doors of the school burst open and a jubilant looking Eric Cartman entered the building. Stan and Kyle interrupted their discussion when the giggles coming from all the other students around them became too loud. 

"Make way! Make way you guys!" Cartman said as he pushed his way through the crowd. The two boys took notice of his domineering grin.

"Cartman! What the hell is this?!" Kyle demanded as his face twisted itself in disgust. He and Kenny immediately walked over to the humiliated boys who were crawling behind his nemesis. It was Pip and Dougie, both of them were wearing only their underwear and bound by leashes that their fat master held tightly in his hand.

"Come on my minions! Do it." Cartman ordered the two others, pretending not to notice Kyle. Pip and Dougie looked uncomfortably at each other.

"Do it or your going down like Butters!"

The other two jumped up on their feet and proceeded to dance in a form resembling the Macarena. As they moved arms and legs around they both sang in unison.

Oh, we love Cartman like nobody does,

The grand master of all that's cool

And what would you if leaving him is what you asked?

Well would simply tell you to kiss our ass!

The two student turned slaved finished their dance by turning around, grabbing their ankles and pointing their rear ends straight into the air.

The entire school hallway was roaring with laughter and applause. Kyle's face got noticeably redder as Cartman's smile got more and more smug. His friend Kenny was rolling on the floor next him, his entire body shaking from another humor induced seizure. Stan was kneeling with Kenny, tears of laughter dripping from his eyes. Everyone was laughing except for Kyle, who now approached the two leashed boys that were mooning the entire school at Cartman's request.

"Pip, Dougie, Come on guys. You don't need to do this. Go home and get dressed. That fat prick is just using you." Kyle said as he got Pip to stand back up. But the British orphan surprised his rescuer by responding,

"I don't think so Kahl! You see, Eric warned us that you would try to interfere. And no Jew scum shall interfere with the master of the world! You should have sucked his balls while you had a chance. Oh what an honor it would have been!"

Kyle looked absolutely repulsed. The words were Cartman's with an English accent. The villain of the scene simply added a chuckle with his minions words and then said,

"Nice try Kahl! But these are my new recruits for the replacement of our missing Butters."

Kyle and now Stan both looked back at the fat boy; both of them were somewhat confused.

"What the hell are you talking about Cartman?" Stan asked, still wiping the tears from his pale cheeks.

"You haven't heard? Butters ran away last week. Only God knows where hell he is. Getting raped by forty year old men I hope, but no matter. I need a new servant to carry out my plans for humanity."

"Sitting on your couch, watching cartoons and having those two bring you chips and milkshakes isn't exactly helping humanity fat ass! And I have no idea why you think Butters is gone. He's standing right over there!"

The crowd of students that shielded the boy from view soon parted to reveal a nervous looking Michael. The imposter had been very meticulous in his efforts to keep a low profile after his incident the other day with Stan and Kyle. His chances of blowing his over was deepening as he looked all of the intrusive stares around him. Cartman was completely unprepared for this. He walked straight up to Michael and placed his hand on the boy's shoulder, as if to confirm that what he was seeing was really there. Eric stood there for a good long while, trying to make sense of what was happening. He finally asked in an agitated whisper,

"Whe-When did you come back? I heard it with my own two ears; your parents said you were gone?"

"I've got no idea what you're talkin' about Eric. I-I never left, I've just been sick is all." Michael responded in an impeccable match to his role's real voice. Alarm bells were still whirling in his mind. How did this fat kid find out about him?

"You're lying again Butters, you black asshole! Why did you leave? Did you think I would not get you back for failing me on your last mission? Nobody can escape me!" Cartman spat back in the imposters face. Michael could smell the stench of digesting powdered doughnuts on other boy's breath.

Stan now stepped in between the pair, like a school teacher who was going to pull two fighting boys apart.

"Stop it Cartman! Butters was with us last Sunday. He told me himself that he's been sick. Whatever you sent him to do last time was probably lame and unfair for him anyways, so just back off!"

"Yeah, even though he was acting very weird last Sunday." Kenny added.

Cartman narrowed his eyes as his mind traveled down internal logical paths that were rarely traversed. The crescent of his trademark malicious smile were formed by his plump lips as his thoughts were transformed into words,

"That's not Butters."

Several seconds of icy cold silence dominated the air before Craig joined in.

"Um, what do you mean that not Butters. It's him, it looks exactly like him."

"Oh sure Craig. It would be easy for your average professional. Dye the hair, master the stutter. Oh I'm sure we are dealing with a veteran actor here," Eric announced as he slipped Michael cruel snicker.

"He might be right man! What if the CIA sent him!? He must be wired, we're all screwed! AHHHHHH" Tweak screamed has pulled out a few more locks of his hair. His sleep deprived black eyes wide open in panic.

"I don't believe it Cartman. You still haven't given any proof" Stan said resolutely as he stared at Butters. "Butters may have his flaws, but he's always stuck through the tough times. That's what I like about him and why he's always been a better friend then you."

Cartman didn't answer this accusation. The subject of his popularity among his other two semi friends was not his favorite. Michael immediately thought of a risky scheme to get him out of this dangerous situation,

"Well um, fellas, if you don't think this are me. Well uh, why don't you ask me a question that only the real Butters would know?"

This quieted the crowd as each student began to think of something that only their classmate would know.

"When went skiing at Aspen, what did you keep saying the town smelling like?" Stan started.

"A-Ass…." Michael began repeating the name of the town.

"That right dude." Stan cut the other off, completely oblivious to the real meaning behind Michael's stuttered word.

"The last time you spent the night at my house, how many titties did that chick have in Crack Whore magazine?" Kenny asked.

"That's disgusting Kenny! Don't you dare answer that Butters!" Wendy cut in.

"I-I won't" Michael responded.

"You're always such a sweetie, why do you always pick on him? You boys are such assholes sometimes." Wendy added as she walked over to give Michael a gentle hug. Stan immediately crossed his arms and looked dangerously at Michael.

"You don't understand Wendy, that's not really Butters." Cartman said with a chuckle.

"Your right, I will never understand the twisted minds of you chauvinistic men." Wendy snarled back with her arms still around Michael. The imposter was preying with every inch of his mind that he could slip away from this crowd. This girl, Wendy might just be his escape from this mess.

"The provider will know." Cartman said in a dark whisper. A sudden, invisible wall of frost permeated the now silent hallway. Michael looked around too see that nobody was able to make eye contact with him or anyone else. He knew it was too dangerous to ask.

Jimmy agreed,

"Y-y-your r-right Eric. The p-p-provider will know, he always knows…"

"Then we meet tonight at the grove. The provider will punish all non believers who infiltrate our circle with death. Hah, hahahaha!" Cartman said trough his wicked teeth.

"Carousel, carousel, carousel" Chanted the kindergartners in unison. Their voices were dreamy, as if they were caught in a supernatural trance. Michael bit his lip as he realized that his own life was now hanging in the balance.

* * *

It was raining again. The streets and sidewalks of the densely populated vertical empire were completely drenched in water and mud. All along the roads were streams of flood water rushing into the vast depths of gaping storm sewers. The thousands of denizens walking around were oblivious to the infiltrators in the man made tunnels below. 

"This way" Said the deeply accented voice of a young boy. Their view was limited and aided only by the weak incandescent bulbs inside their flashlights. Both of the boys hugged the wall of the tunnel, trying to avoid stepping in the rushing stream of water or scurrying city rats.

Even in the eerie twilight, you could recognize the infiltrators as they progressed deeper and deeper into the sewers. Short, curly black hair on top skin of dark complexion described the boy walking in the lead. His face displayed eternal determination, there was nothing would stop Bahir from accomplishing his mission. Saarin was what brothers were instructed to call him,

The other boy, who was closely tailing Bahir, was the newest members of the Brotherhood of Eternity. His pale face contained both fear and eagerness. He knew not what he was doing in these filthy tunnels or where they would end up. He was following the only order he had been given, to follow Bahir. Butters adjusted the collar of his freshly issued tunic, a pushed a couple locks of hair out of his cobalt blue colored eyes. While his new outfit wasn't the most comfortable garment he had worn in his life, it certainly looked awesome. The embroided skull and fist on his shoulder made him finally felt like he was a part of something special. Butters was distracted again as he admired himself and did not pay attention to where he was walking.

A squeak echoed through the tunnel and Bahir immediately spun around, as if ready to fight. Butters looked down and realized in revolt the cause of the noise. Beneath his boot were the bloody remains of a freshly crushed sewer rat. The weight of the boy had smashed the small mammal's spine and all it could do is twitch in that darkness as it exhaled its final breath. Butters immediately made eye contact with Bahir and whispered,

"S-sorry"

Bahir didn't reply, he simply spun back around and took off walking at a faster pace.

"What's he scared of?" Butters quietly asked himself. Since he had joined the Lord Rache, he had more questions then answers stuffed into his small brain. It was earlier today that Bahir had approached him back at the headquarters and told him that they had a new assignment. His friend and fellow brother had the gravest look on his face and would not tell him why he was so scared of the Chicago underground.

"Guess I'll find out soon enough" Butters comforted himself as he rubbed his nose. The mildew produced by the over abundant bacteria and fungus growing on the stone walls enraged his allergies. Whatever mission this is, it will need to end quick before the young boy suffocated.

"We're almost there Chaos." The darker boy announced in a whisper, temporarily disrupting Butters' thoughts

_Chaos_

It was a name he thought up over a year ago. An identity he created when the world did him wrong. Now it was his sole identity; the one that would dominate his destiny forever.

The tunnel soon ended at the end of a vast chasm. Butters pointed his flashlight down to see a violent pool of water swirling below; several heavy streams plummeted to feed the turbulent waves with rain drops from above.

"There it is, let us hurry so that we may leave this place." Bahir announced as he pointed at a scaffold ten feet above the entrance of the tunnel.

Butters began to climb the slimy, rust covered ladder that was bolted to the walls of the shaft. He could feel Bahir, right below him, pushing him faster up.

"Whats the rush? I'm gonna slip if he keeps pushing me like this." Butters thought to himself in panic. He could feel his boots gliding over the rails.

The pair finally made it to the top of the scaffold. And as Butters gasped for air, Bahir immediately moved down the scaffold. When the blonde boy finally looked up, he saw his partner digging through his pack.

"Here it is" Bahir whispered when he pulled out a nimble black radio from one of the obscure leather pockets. He turned a few of the dials and finally spoke into the transmitter.

"My lord, we are in position."

"Very good Executor, did Chaos make it in with you?" called a gravely familiar voice through the static.

"By my side, m'lord. We await your orders." Executor Saarin replied.

"Crimson Knight will guide you through phase two. Chaos shall be the one to do it." Bahir nodded his head and pressed the radio in to the other's hands. Butters nervously took it and pressed the send button.

"H-hello? C-crimson knight?"

There was no answer. Bahir looked back at Butters and assured him.

"He's probably getting ready. Don't worry, Knight is our technical genius. He could build a computer out of thin air my friend. Why you should have seen when he…"

A new voice entered the airwaves, interrupting Bahir. It was strained and somewhat difficult to comprehend. It seemed that ever syllable the speaker said was over articulated.

"Look in the backpack that we gave you Chaos." The voice ordered. Chaos took the pack from his shoulder and carefully placed it on the metal scaffold.

"I haven't touched it, just like R-Rache said." Butters responded into the transmitter.

"That-that's good Chaos, now um…" the boy's voice drifted off into space and only returned a few painful seconds later "…yeah, I need you to take out the diverter from the main pocket."

Butters reached his hand inside the pack and felt the large, metal object inside. He used both hands to lift the silver coated machine from inside; staring curiously at it as he held it in mid air.

"What is this thing?" Butters asked aloud.

"Well its…" Knight's voice started, but Rache's voice immediately halted him,

"Not now Chaos!" He said, knowing that the boy on his end would waste hours droning on about technical details that none of them would understand.

"Look at the panel in front of you Chaos." Knight's voice ordered as he seemed to have regained control of his radio from the dark lord.

Butters gasped as he realized the scaffold he was standing on provided access to a massive series of weather shielded electronic cabinets. They all had the weird looking globes printed on them with the acronyms 'AT&T'.

"T-There's a whole bunch of them." Butters said.

"Oh, uh…the one we need has the letters E29-0 printed on it. There would probably be another one next to is labeled NSA." Knight replied still not recognizing that he was a step ahead of the young initiate of the Brotherhood.

Butters, assisted by Bahir, began scanning over the covers of the humming compartments. Even when standing several inches away, Butters could feel the raw heat radiating from the buzzing circuits within. The boy could only guess this was some sort of hub for a vast computer network. Maybe the whole gosh darn internet.

"Here it is my friend." Bahir's Syrian accent called out from the darkness. Butters picked the strange silver device up from the floor and walked towards the source of Bahir voice. When he arrived at the end of the long scaffold, he could see Bahir's flashlight fixed on a grey box the size of a refrigerator. Two large green lights poked out of the side of the box, making the eyes of both boys glow green in the twilight.

"We found it Knight, what now?" Butters asked the other boy on radio.

"Open it up; this is going to be a very delicate process Chaos, so….sooo listen to me carefully." Knight was once again fading between the sub-conscious. Bahir had already produced wicked looking set of wire cutters that he would use to remove two heavy padlocks that sealed the panel shut.

Two large clanks echoed in the stony shaft as the locks fell to the ground and both boys now used all their muscular strength to pry the heavy cover off of the panel. Butters gasped at what he saw inside, A forest of messy wires connected series after series of circuit boards. A large collection of LED's flashed in way that reminded the young boy of lights on a Christmas tree.

"Pretty ain't it?" Butters muttered to Bahir who was also mesmerized by the computers in front of him.

"Now, don't touch anything unless I say so Chaos. Th…They have ways of telling that the hub has been tampered with. We cannot allow th-at." Knight warned through the static of the radio. Butters nodded his head in acknowledgement.

"There is a board labeled ENET-079 to the bottom right of the cabinet, look for it."

"I can't see any writing on this junk" Bahir said as he swept the beam of his flashlight over the electronics.

Butters was more meticulous is his own search.

"CMOS-305 no, DRAM 36… no…wait, here it is! Seventy nine!" Butters announced loudly.

"Shhh!" Bahir hissed through his teeth as he looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was watching them.

"We found it." Butters said as he pressed the transmission button on the radio.

"There should be three cables plugged into the side of it. With Saarin's help, you must plug the three cables hanging out of the capture device I gave you in place of those three cables and plug those into the other end. And make sure you turn on the transmitter before you unplug them."

Bahir looked up at Butter, hoping that the other boy understood the instruction even slightly better then he did. In unison the boys plugged and reconnected the wires.

"There!" Butters said as he placed the silver device inside of the large metal cabinet.

"Its-its working…" Knight's voice announced over the radio.

"Well done boys, we will have the information for the endgame project soon. Head back to the surface." Rache added with a hint of glee in his words.

Bahir clicked off the radio and shoved it into his backpack.

"Let's go Chaos, quickly!" He said as he already started to climb down the slimy metal ladder back towards the tunnel.

"You've b-been all jittery since we left HQ Bah...I mean Saarin. What are you so s-scared of?" Butters finally asked as he also descended the down the shaft and joined his friend in walking briskly down the tunnel.

"A dangerous foe hunts all intruders to her realm. We are her sworn enemy and her minions will kill us if…"

Bahir never got to finish his sentence, only gasp escaped him as he reached beneath his cloak and unsheathed a large viscous knife. Two shadows stood in the tunnel just in front of Butters, They both walked closer and his flashlight revealed more details to his weak eyes.

They both had no shirts and ripped jeans that only reached down to their knarly knees. Blue and black paint covered their pale skin which hadn't scene the light of day in years. Two menacing looking handguns where pointed at the chest of Butters and Bahir.

"What are you two doing down here? We though we could here and smell the stench of the Brotherhood? Your filthy rodent Rache knows that this our domain." The left hand side one said through his brown stained teeth.

Butter only looked over two the strained face of Bahir who only raised his blade further and muttered in a barely audible voice,

"Don't move Chaos…"


End file.
